


The Last Words of a Dying Animatronic

by Frostagin



Category: Five Nights at Freddy's
Genre: Gen, Poetry, though that's kinda standard with fnaf isnt it, trigger warning mentions of blood and death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-13
Updated: 2014-11-13
Packaged: 2018-02-25 06:48:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 146
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2612246
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Frostagin/pseuds/Frostagin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A poem from Foxy's point of view. Spoilers for the plot of FNAF, and there are hints at the FNAF 2 is a prequel theory.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Last Words of a Dying Animatronic

**Author's Note:**

> well this is technically a "Drabble from English Class" but i really like this so i feel like it deserves its own work  
> in fact i might make those a series instead   
> idk maybe later

I never meant to hurt.  
I'm not angry at the guards, no, but I don't trust them.  
I can't trust anyone, not even myself.  
I never meant to hurtt̴̘̲̗̗ͅt̪͍t̡̞̳ṱ̙̻̰̱t͍͙̙͓̰͈̩͡  
Mike, he was nice, just needed a quick buck.  
I never meant to hurt tho- th-  
The other guards.  
But th- theyy̹̟̲̾̈̇͒̕y̥̹̍ͥ̾͌͛ͮy̙̚͝  
they took me away first, because i-i-i  
i couldn't savee͊҉͍̙̫̙ëĔ̜̮̖͛ͨͬͬ̀̃͑E͖̠͉̳̠͕̳͖̍̌ͮͤͦ͑͘E̸̥̞̲̮̻͕ͮͥͧ̏̿̂̆̊ͦ́  
I hurt them and I didn't intend  
he got too close and my jaw ju-- just  
S N A P  
snap.  
the pirate got put away for good again  
twice I disappeared  
Unlike the others, there was only ever one-  
They were replacee̾҉̩̰̠̞̭̱̼e̳̻̦̞̘͎̓̍--  
not me  
I was ann̷n̴̕͢gry  
And then moreȩ̷̕̕͜é̸̸́͟  
blood and dy- a͕̯͌͊̀̏ͥͩn̢̫̰͙̖̯ͤͬ̅͌ͯ̚̚d̎̒́͋̄͠ ̺̘̫̻ͤ͋͆͜d͈͉ͥ̎͐͜y̲͈̩̆̅͒̓̏͘- and death.  
He shoved the poor child in the su- in the suit  
And we were gone  
For good.  
goodbye freddy goodbye chica goodbye bonnie  
goodbye foxy  
I'm sorryẏ̃͏̜̺y̠̘͇̐̅̿͗̒͑͢e̖̬̪̻̤̼͋͗͑e͔ͬ̊ͤ̋ḙ̻͗ͤE͋͗̀̊҉̼̪̠͕͙̺̺͓̱͟E̶͎̖̼̤͖̹̘͋͌̿̓͆̒͂͞E͐ͥͮ́͗ͨ̿̾̚҉͔̣̰̟̭̖E̺͓̎̓ͫ͋͗Ę̭͖̭̲ͤ͒̈̾̓̍̆̈E̹̭̖͈̼͍̻̥̺̣̰̞̥̣͑̌̒̈ͯ̈́ͩ̒̔͗ͬ̋́̚̚͢E̷̹̱̻̭̺̼͔͚͇̮̯̖̻̐̀̀̐̌͟͟Ę͉̣̩͕̫̟̱̲̓ͧͬͮ̎̇̎̽̊̒͌̐̀͡Eͭ͐̒̂̉͐ͤ̉ͬ̈͠҉̷̨̯͖͕̹̻̖̩̞̠̖̯͉͔̼͕̮̟͜ͅȨ̳̞̣͉̼̝̟̪͖̜̤͚̬̍̓̎̑̔͟E̮̼̪͈͓̬͖̗̱̓͛ͦ̎͜͟͟͞Ę̶̹͙̠̬̣͔̮̳̯͓̩̼͈̯̓ͭ͌̓̏͂͆ͯͮ̍ͦͭ͊̈̓̽͟͠Ȩ̡͕͙̯̻̳͚͙̥̤̖̤ͪ̎̈́͋̐̑́̀̚̚͜E̸̴̶̯̲̣̲̲͍͇̥̫̜̺͚̮̙͕͐̇̆̄̎ͭ̾̽ͮ̓͐͢͟ͅE̸̮̩̳̫̬͉͍̭̣͆͒̍ͩͫͥ̒̂ͦ̑̍̇̀̍̌̃̒̀́̕E̎̏̔͐͂̀̐ͩͫ̽ͫ̏ͭ̚҉̢̛͈̹͉̯̭̮̘̤ͅȄ̵̛͎̤͔̪̹̱͕̜̭̫̩̲̫̗̲̹͈̘ͫͤ̓̓̆̀̚͝E̷̞̝̺̩̰̰͇̫̜̲͐̒̅͆͆͆͊͛̉̊͡͠͠E̵͍̼̖̝̖͍̦̤̭̳̭̦̮͎̝ͭ̽ͭ̇̊͐̂͒ͦ͊̃ͧ͆͗̿ͪ͜E̴̺̱͔̖̼̙̯͖̥̲̹̖͖̪̝͋ͭ͐̀͂͛ͯ̏ͪ̓͂̂̔̄͂̌ͫ̏͢͜Ḙ̷̷̫̲͉͍̟̭͇͔͔͉̗̮̙̠̪͙̹͔̔̏ͪ̐͗͌̉̋̕͠E̗̖͈͙̲͍͚̟͚̠̋̈ͧ͆̓̀ͯ̉ͧͪ̊̏ͮ̓̾̽́̚͜͟͜Ę̷̪̯͖̠̞̰̻͇̦̬̞ͣ̇̊͆̿̇͑͘͜É̶̸͈̞̠͔̟̃̍ͩ̏̍ͭEͩ͒ͭ͟͡͏̼̤̼͓͕E̷̷̡̞̠̦̟̯̪͈̦̦͖̖̦̋̾̔͢


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